


Fair Tidings from Fanow

by saltedearthsch



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22782886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltedearthsch/pseuds/saltedearthsch
Summary: ary'al finds more things in fanow than a lightwarden.
Relationships: Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	Fair Tidings from Fanow

**Author's Note:**

> this piece is written using my warrior of light, Ary'al Sabrae, and a friend's character Rhys Leonhardt (and posted with permission). ever since we discussed this part of their ship lore, i just HAD to write it. hope you enjoy~

With the assault by the sisters halted for now, her weary silence has resumed in Ary’al. While most of their companions follow the path indicated by the trio of Viis and chatter quietly amongst themselves, she remains at the rear, eyes trained on the cerulean blooms decorating the forest floor. Beside her, Ryne watches quietly. The pair have been close, since the ordeal in Nabaath Araeng, even if the Viera woman’s demeanor has not lent itself to opening conversation.

It is not long at all before they ascend up the limb of a tree almost as thick and wide as a goobbue and find themselves in what must be the village. Constructed of a series of platforms, bridges, and stairs, it is certainly impressive. Under normal circumstances, perhaps, she would be thrilled to explore it in its entirety, much the same as her other academics. But as with the last few places they have ventured, her interests and focus remain purely singular.

Ever since she set foot in Lakeland what feels like ages ago, though they had been saddled with yet another world-ending catastrophe, only one concern had been on her mind. No, it stemmed even further back, to that moment in the Ghimlyt Dark when she had lost everything. Losing Alisaie alone would have been bad enough - but because she had tried so desperately in that moment to save  _ him  _ she had been too distraught to save the Elezen girl. 

When she had learned that the other Scions had survived and made their way to various places in Norvrandt, she had been bestowed a speck of hope that the same had happened to  _ him.  _ Yet the Exarch had been unable to recall anyone matching her love’s description and she had been crushed once again. Even so she accepted his request to vanquish the Light from their land, praying that maybe, just maybe, she would stumble upon her quarry along the journey.

So far, no such luck had befallen her.

Her thoughts are far away from whatever lecture Aimet is giving them about the history of Fanow and Ronka. She trusts that Y’shtola and the others will be able to tell her whatever important pieces there were to glean from it. Alisaie nudges her when the eldest Viis woman mentions that they might have run of the village to speak to its inhabitants and find out if they’ve seen the Lightwarden. At first, Ary’al sighs, none so eager to take on yet another recon task. Then, a notion occurs to her. A small spark of hope gives way to a blooming flame of hope.

_ Perhaps someone has seen him. _

It’s a long shot, a shot in the deepest dark she has ever known, but she knows she has to take it. So before the other Scions can lend their input or any thought, she takes off across the wooden platforms like a woman possessed. She hears her name in the voices of her comrades but ignores them in favor of the village folk around her.  _ Please, please, please! _

Several conversations and quite a lot of running later, Ary is running out of the limited supply of hope she’d had left. They’ve gathered some information on the Lightwarden sightings in Yx’maja, but no one seemed to have anything to say about a male Mystel. Only a few remain to question, and the Viera knight’s steps drag behind the other Scions. As before she begins tuning out whatever responses they receive, until suddenly:

“Actually, now that you mention it, there’s been one--”

“Ary?”

Her heart clenches in her chest and the breath freezes in her lungs. The others look just as shocked at the sound of the male voice amidst the sea of female Viis. She can scarcely dare to believe it might be him, convinced that her mind is just playing desperate tricks on her and closes her eyes against the sting of tears in them.

“Ary…  _ Twelve _ , can it be? Is it truly you?” His voice has taken on a pained but hopeful tone and she hears the soft sound of steps on wood approaching. A hand lands on her shoulder and she flinches, cracking her eyes open to find Alisaie starting at her seriously.

“Ary’al, turn around.” Breathing shakily, the Warrior of Light did as the girl instructed and nearly had that same breath knocked from her lungs.

He looks like himself and not simultaneously - his hair is a little dingier than she remembers, perhaps a little longer, and the clothes he wears are like nothing she has ever seen him in. But it’s the eyes that tell her the truth. Those familiar mismatched eyes are mirroring her tentative hope, and her fear that they may be wrong about each other. With trepidation she steps forward and so does he, and then they’re running across the short space full tilt.

Rhys catches her the way he always has, sweeping her into his arms even as she hurls her entire self at him. There’s a strange wailing sound from between them and she realizes belatedly that it’s coming from  _ her _ . Her throat hurts and her eyes are made completely useless by the near flood of saltwater cascading down her cheeks as Ary’al buries her face in his shoulder, his neck, his hair.  _ By the Mother it truly is him!  _ She can feel his own tears against her skin as he crushes her against him, arms locking her in place as they collapse to the ground in a blubbering heap.

Words stick in her throat so she does the first thing she can think of and smothers his lips with her own. It’s sloppy and salty and  _ gods  _ she can scarcely believe it’s happening. A hysterical little laugh of relief bubbles out of her mouth against his, and she has to pull away to breathe again. When she has control of her emotions enough to speak, she holds his face in her hands, scrutinizing him as if she can cast every last detail to memory. Her eyes are red-rimmed and so are his, but at least he’s here. Sighing happily, she rests her forehead against his and closes her eyes. Overwhelmed.

“I can’t believe it,” she chokes out and his hand is on her cheek now too, thumb soothing across her skin. “Is it really you?”

“It’s me.” His voice is low with the same depth of emotion as hers, near breaking with it. “I thought I’d never see you again.” The notion makes her throat close up.

“Me too.” His lips press to hers, gentle and loving and she responds in kind. It only lasts a brief moment and then he’s holding her close again, curling in on her like a clinging vine. In the silence, a question rises to her mind that Ryne instead voices, quiet and somber.

“How long have you been here?” Rhys’s eyes meet hers over the Warrior’s shoulder, curious about this strange avatar of their former friend, and he shrugs.

“About a year, I think. Almost two? I… stopped keeping track.” Ary’al’s arms tighten around him at the words. Considering they were taken around the same time, it stood to reason Rhys had been in Norvrandt nearly as long as Alisaie, but the notion still made her heart ache. Certainly she had felt guilty for the fates of the others, but Rhys…  _ The Exarch _ had not even known he was here, meaning he had spent that entire time alone, without any of the support the enigmatic leader had offered the others. 

“I’m so sorry,” she chokes out, a fresh sob threatening to close her throat again. Hands on her shoulders, Rhys pulls her off him just a bit so he can see her face, and smiles at her.

“It’s not your fault, love. I’m fine and we’re together again, that’s what matters.” All she can manage is a mute nod as he noses her cheek.

“Rhys!” Surprised, she stares at the stairs behind him to see Cymet hurrying down the stairs towards them, her sisters trailing not far behind. The younger Viis hurried towards them, Uimet not far behind. “You’re back!” 

“Are we interrupting something? We came to see if you had made any progress in discovering the location of the Lightwarden.” Aimet asks the question almost knowingly, and after gently pulling Rhys’ hands from her face, Ary’al shook her head. Glancing between them, Cymet gasped.

“Wait a moment! Does this mean the woman you were looking for was the Warrior?” She sounds excited, like an overjoyed schoolgirl, and Ary is able to watch as her lover’s cheeks fill with red at Cymet’s question.

“Yes,” he admits simply and the younger sisters squeal excitedly. Ary’al gave him a quizzical look.

“You told them about me?” 

“Of course I did.” Rhys looks mildly embarrassed at being called out, but clarifies, “When I arrived in Rak’tika, the people of Fanow were of course suspicious. A random Miqo’te who had no knowledge of their world or lands? But when they realized I wasn’t some sort of Eulmoran spy or other threat, they took me in. And from the moment they found me, the only thing on my mind was finding you.” 

“He was like a lost puppy,” Aimet remarked, teasing and Rhys’ ears flattened with horror at the notion. “It became quickly apparent that stealing the secrets of Ronka was far from his mind.”

“Speaking of the secrets of Ronka,” Y’shtola interjected, and Rhys seemed relieved to divert the subject away from himself, “one of your people mentioned there may be ruins nearby we could search for answers.” Aimet nodded.

“Yes, off to the northeast. We have guarded and searched them for many years, but mayhaps fresh eyes will find what familiarity and inexperience missed. I will take you there.” Ary’al and Rhys had stood, rejoining the others who now looked at the Viera expectantly. 

“I suppose haste is of utmost import,” Ary’al murmured, squeezing Rhys’ hands nervously. He stood nearly shoulder to shoulder with her, and she was grateful for the stability of having him near. She glanced at him.

“I’ll go with you.” A relieved smile lit her face.

“Good. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you don't already follow him, please check out Rhys on Twitter @BRDXtraordinare
> 
> If you want more sappy headcanons, angst, and memes from yours truly, I can be found @saltedearthsch ^^


End file.
